


It Doesn't Feel Like a Win

by Saori



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Angst, Coming Out, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Enemies to Friends, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Famous Harry, Famous Louis, Fluff, Implied Relationships, M/M, Partying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-29
Updated: 2017-05-29
Packaged: 2018-11-06 08:29:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 20,704
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11032452
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Saori/pseuds/Saori
Summary: Louis just got back from tour, and doesn’t want to deal with people. Especially not noisy show hosts, who make him snap and come out on an impulse. It doesn’t help that his manager is an asshole, and he seems to bump into the certain show hosteverywhere. He just wants to drink a hot tea already.Or, Louis is a closeted ace celebrity, Harry is a TV show host, Liam is too sensible and Niall drinks too much.





	It Doesn't Feel Like a Win

**Author's Note:**

  * For [strong](https://archiveofourown.org/users/strong/gifts).



> For the prompt: _"Louis is a closeted ace celebrity, who is struggling to keep the straight player-boy facade going for the sake of publicity. Harry is an interviewer who is forced to ask him an invasive question about how much he's sleeping around, and Louis breaks. There's lots of drama and backlash and eventually Harry reaches out to him and apologizes and says he quit the job and stuff and their relationship grows from there. Enemies to lovers."_
> 
> I didn't think I'll ever write for one of my favorite authors, but here I am. I really liked this prompt, and I hope you like the fic just as much as I enjoyed writing, if not more.
> 
> Caipirinha is Brazil's national cocktail, it's very delicious, if you like sour tastes and drink alcohol, I definitely recommend it.
> 
> Huge thanks to my beta, [Jess](http://oopsandhiforever.tumblr.com/), who helped me loads with this fic!
> 
> Enjoy!

 They say you can tell a lot about someone by how they treat their crew. Are they bossy, bitchy, or simply just don’t care? Do they mix with them, or look down on them? Are they nice to them, or criticize their work?

Louis watches the crew from his spot in the corridor, sipping from his too-sweet tea. They’re buzzing around like workaholic bees, somehow relaxed and focused at the same time. It’s okay, they have around twenty minutes before they have to start.

Harry Styles emerges from his dressing room, laughing at something the pale-haired make-up artist tells him. Louis watches as she says her goodbyes, then heads down the hallway where Louis sits on a chest pushed up against the wall.

He perks up when Harry walks up to one of the lighting guys. They’re having a light-hearted conservation with a director, and makes a mental note that the guys didn’t tense up when Harry made his presence known. From where he sits, he can’t hear the exchange, but Harry starts with a handshake, the lighting guy beaming at him as he pulls back.

“Jake is new,” says a voice by Louis’ side and he jumps a little bit, startled by the makeup artist looming over his shoulder. She positioned herself so she’s not in the way of others, arms crossed over her floral shirt covered chest. “Harry always makes sure to greet the new members, right off the bat making it clear he’s not some diva waiting to fire everyone who messes up,” she smiles at Louis when he just blinks at her.

“Lou Teasdale,” the woman offers her hand and Louis grimly accepts it. “Let’s get you dolled up,” she says and Louis frowns, because he’s not a diva either, thank you very much. He’d rather get the concerned screenshots from his fans on Twitter, asking if he’s getting enough sleep than having to go through the usual make-up routine.

“I’m good, but thank you,” he says, nodding, eyeing up her alarmed face.

“I’m sure, but your hair would argue. At least let me introduce it to a hairbrush,” she points towards the top of his head with her chin, and Louis sighs, hopping off of his makeshift seat. He follows Lou to a room full of mirrors and accessories, sitting when told, frowning at his reflection.

“Are you nervous?” she asks while she picks a hairbrush, looking through the bottles on the table, pulling out one and setting it at the edge of the table. She places two tender hands on either side of Louis’ head, adjusting it, then brushes through his hair with her fingers before she takes the hairbrush in hand.

“Should I be?” Louis asks back with raised eyebrows while she runs the brush through his locks, pulling just on the edge of painful.

“Harry can make guests uncomfortable, even if not on purpose,” she hums, switching to another brush. “He’s witty, sassy and dirty minded, but it’s too subtle to be picked up by anyone who doesn’t know him. Someone once told me his interview with Justin Bieber was just straight up cringy.” She huffs out a breath of laugh, the air catching in Louis’ hair, making him shiver.

“I’m not surprised,” Louis mutters under his breath as she switches brushes once again. This time she’s going for the toothcomb, removing every product Louis tried to save his hair with in the morning.

“Harry is not exactly afraid to point out things that don’t really make sense to him. Remember that clip that went viral where someone calls out Taylor on her relationship with Hiddleston? Wait, I have it on my phone,” she snickers, not waiting for an answer. She puts the brush away, then after a beat or two, she pushes her phone in Louis’ hand.

The clip is a low quality recording of the TV screen, where it shows Harry for a moment, then Taylor Swift, sitting on the sofa. Harry’s voice says: “You know, I always say look at the good things that come out of a past relationship rather than the bad.”

“That’s very good advice, actually,” Taylor says, nodding and smiling at her host.

“On another topic, I’ve heard your Twitter follows are doing great, congratulation on the 75 million followers--“ The rest can’t be heard, because the person recording hollers “Bitch! What the fuck!”, then the clip cuts off.

Louis snorts at it, locking the phone then putting it on the table in front of him. Lou laughs at it behind him, then reaches for the bottle she prepared. She’s shaking and spraying it on her hand before combing through Louis’ hair with her fingers, gently like she’s petting it.

“Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to show you before you go up, but it’s better if you know what you’re up against. Harry means well, and he doesn’t try to start drama, but he’s wearing his heart on his sleeve, sometimes it makes people uncomfortable.

“Plus, it’s not always his choice. As much as I’d like to give him all the credit for that Hiddleswift shade, the producers of the show wanted him to straight up call her out on it. It’s only thanks for his ability to turn things around is that he wasn’t the target of new drama,” she explains while reaching for another bottle, mousse covering her hand as she works it over his locks.

“Any advice on that?” he wonders, because it seems like nobody else is aware of Harry being this good with words as Lou is. His team said it’s not a big deal, Harry is just another host, and the reviews only mentioned him being sassy, not the type who calls you out on stuff.

“I’d say think before you speak,” she shrugs, working his hair in a gentle fringe. “If you don’t make things awkward he won’t either. Like when he was interviewing Niall Horan, he did amazingly, though Niall is a standing rock. You just take a look at him and know that he’s the least problematic person on this planet.” Lou smiles at him fondly, then steps back, nodding.

“Bullet dodged,” she says as Louis turns around sending her a thankful smile.

“It’s great, thank you,” he nods, then stands, ready to leave. As he steps out of the room he realizes that he left his tea on the chest he sat beforehand, but now it’s nowhere to be found. He sighs, heading to the kitchen they have for the crew.

He has a coffee machine and whatnot in his room, but the tea they got for him is some no-brand shit. While he’s not a diva or picky like that, he had to wake up early and he needs something stronger. He opens the door to the staff kitchen, it’s a small room with one round table pushed to the wall, chairs packed on top of each other, only two by the table.

At the counter, leaning back and stirring his tea stands Harry Styles, ankles crossed, head tilted to the side like he’s trying to solve how tea works. Louis presses his lips together glancing around before he decides fuck it, and walking in, a wide smile plastered on his face.

“Hi,” he greets, and Styles looks up, hand automatically reaching up to push his hair out of his face, the long curls obeying him without any complaint.

“Hello,” he smiles back, reaching out his hand. “I’m Harry Styles, it’s nice to meet you,” he says politely and Louis returns the gesture. As he steps away, Harry raises his eyebrows, looking amused. “What can I do for you?” he asks on his deep, raspy voice, and Louis wonders if he always sounds like that. The clip didn’t really catch his voice properly.

“Um,” Louis looks at the cup in Harry’s hand, biting his lip. “I was wondering if you have any black teas, I need something stronger than what they put in my room,” he says, trying not to sound douche-y.

Harry is gorgeous, makes the crappy, outdated kitchen look half as bad as it is. And how a person does that to a room is beyond Louis. He has long, chocolate brown hair, curling and swirling around his shoulders, green, bright eyes under his straight, thin eyebrows and jawline of a god. If he wasn’t a talk show host, Louis would easily mistake him for a superstar.

“Oh, of course, I’m sure the guys have something in here,” he gestures to the shelf to his left, but doesn’t move. He’s not going to serve Louis, and thank God, because it means Harry sees him as an equal, not someone who should be served. And Louis, after a beat moves, standing on his tiptoes to see the boxes of different kind of teas, coffees and hot cocoa reaching up and pushing around some.

When he finds what he’s looking for, he glances at Harry from the corner of his eye before he opens the box and take out one, almost slapping himself for not asking beforehand.

“You sure they don’t mind?” he asks, holding up the box. After a beat of silence and poker face, the corner of Harry’s mouth twitches and he shakes his head.

“It’s for everyone, you’re not the first, nor the last one who takes without asking. The only rule we have is to buy a new one if we use up anything,” he points at a printed paper on the fridge that looks thousands of years old. It reads:

_“Kitchen rules:_

_\- If you finish it, replace it!_  
_\- Don’t touch anything that’s labelled as someone’s!_  
_\- If something went wrong, throw it out!_  
_\- Clean up after yourself, we’re not cleaning staff, and it’s not their job to wash your laundry!_  
_\- DO NOT leave the milk out in the open!_  
_\- NO food fights!!_

_Seriously, Drew.”_

The last three lines are written with pen, and Louis wonders if they’re added because of that Drew. He snickers at them, then turns to look for the kettle. Harry shuffles over a few centimeters, pointing behind him with his thumb, showing Louis the water boiler that’s filled.

“The cups are in there,” Harry points at the cabinet next to the fridge after Louis turns on the kettle. “Pick any, they’re common use as well,” he says and Louis smiles at him, opening the cupboard and picking a cup with the show’s logo on it.

“How are you?” Louis asks while they wait for the water to boil, because he doesn’t know what to do with himself. The silence wasn’t awkward, Harry busy sipping from his own tea and Louis waiting for his to be done, but he doesn’t want to be that guy who ignores a show host. From Lou’s earlier words he feels judged already, stressing over if he comes off as a diva or not.

“I’m alright, thank you,” Harry says after a beat, then smiles at Louis. He seems a little slow for how Lou described him as ‘witty’, but maybe he just had an early morning as well. Who knows? “How about you?”

“A little tired but alright, yeah. I guess I’m just a tad nervous about your questions,” he says, eyeing Harry up and down.

“Yeah, I guess,” Harry hums like he’s not even paying attention, turning the cup in his hand around. He doesn’t tell Louis not to be nervous and it makes him a little uneasy. He picks up the kettle when it’s done, pouring the hot water on the teabag. “Give it to me, you’ll have to drink it on stage I’m afraid,” Harry says as he looks at his watch, putting his own cup in the shrink.

“Oh, I can take it there,” Louis says quickly, because, again, he doesn’t need to be served.

“I’m not sure if it’d look good if in your grand entrance you’d be holding a cup. It’s okay, I’ll give it to the guys who do the set, it’ll be there,” he reassures, looking at Louis as he reaches for the cup.

“Oh, okay, sorry,” Louis presses his lips together, smiling tightly at Harry as he takes the cup.

“Go and find Susan to put your mic on, I have to be on stage in a few minutes,” he says, heading out of the room, Louis following with a frown on his face. “I’ll see you on stage,” Harry nods at him, smiling before he takes off in the other direction than where Louis will have to make his entrance.

Louis goes to look for this Susan lady, who’s waiting in his dressing room, getting comfortable on the sofa and playing on her phone. She looks, then jumps up when she sees Louis, smoothing down her shirt and smiling tightly at him. She’s quickly working the mic on him, making sure that the battery stays on. After that, the area becomes a chaos of people running around, barking orders and hushing everyone because apparently they’re already recording.

Louis is ordered in the backstage area, where people whisper to each other, looking at the monitors set up there, then the doors open and Louis is told that he can enter the stage. The lights are hot, but not extremely, and the AC is on. The small crowd on the side cheers as Louis smiles and waves at them.

Harry’s waiting for him, reaching for his blazer, adjusting it. He’s reaching out his hand, smiling. They shake hands, again, a little longer than the brief touch they had in the break room. Harry’s hand is not too cold, not too hot, the rings on his fingers sending shivers down Louis’ spine as he returns the smile.

Harry greets him, gesturing to the armchair to Louis to sit down, but his offer gets lost in the sound of the cheering fans, even though they were probably already told to shut it. That’s the problem if they use real audience and not a hired one.

They sit down, Harry behind his table that he only uses when he has a longer interview, preferring to stand, waiting for the cheers to die, then the interview starts. Harry looks at Louis with open curiosity, like all his focus is on Louis, he’s genuinely interested in his answer. It’s just so fucking intense, a hard contrast against his previous nonchalance in the break room.

“So, you just finished your first tour with your debut album, it must have been nice being in all those places,” Harry says after the small talk, and Louis clears his throat, preparing for his answer. Be smart with your words, Lou had said.

“Yeah, yeah, it was absolutely lovely, you know, seeing the numbers like, on the internet and stuff, it’s completely different seeing so many people in there, actual people face-to-face, it’s incredible,” he smiles, taking a glance out at the audience. “And you know, travelling around, is nice, sometimes I miss home, but it’s worth it.”

“What do you miss from home the most?” Harry asks, raising his eyebrows, adjusting his cards, and Louis licks his lips. He takes the fact that Harry haven’t looked down at his questions yet, a good sign.

“My family, mostly,” Louis says, humming. “Having one place to sleep every night, not having to pack up stuff, you know,” he smiles at Harry, who listens very carefully.

“So you don’t like to sleep in different beds every night?” he asks and Louis shakes his head without thinking.

“No, you know, it’s always a stretch, adjusting to new places was never my favourite. It was nice having the bus when we were in America, gave me some sense of constancy.”

“I wouldn’t have thought so, seeing that it seems like you visit a lot of beds,” Harry says, looking down at his cards, audience chucking and some cheering. Louis furrows his brows, not getting the point at first. When he finally realizes this is the dirty minded, subtle way Harry talks that Lou told him about, he tries to save it the best he can.

“Yeah, um, tour is kind of like that, lots of hotels, because we can’t really go around with the bus to a lot of places, having to fly around a lot,” he explains calmly, trying to keep the topic on the tour as much as he can.

“What would you say your favourite thing about touring is?” Harry asks while Louis sips from his tea. It went cold. How ironic.

“I think seeing the people, uh, you know, seeing where all those people live who you read the messages of on the internet. Seeing their smiles and their gratitude is hands down the best feeling in the world. You know, they’re the reason I’m here today and I couldn’t be more thankful for that, it’s just incredible to experience the support first hand.”

“They must be very grateful as well,” Harry suggests again, and Louis starts to get enough of it, but he’s not going to be the diva, nope.

“Yeah, um, I mean it’s only my job and, um, they really don’t need to thank me, you know. It’s enough to see how much they like my music, that’s more than enough for me,” Louis smiles, trying to make sense of his own rambling, but it’s hard. He’s caught off guard, and Harry seems fixed on the topic, or maybe it’s just Louis who sees things that are not there.

“Seeing how close to your fans you are, I have seen an article the other day talking about you partying with some of them, is it something you do often? Having a good time with them, you know, getting to know some of them a little better?” Harry asks, looking down at his cards. Louis knows that it’s a trap, with no way out of it. Fuck, Harry really is good with words.

“Oh, it’s, it was just, you know, having a good time with them,” he explains, gesturing with his hands, fully aware that he’s just repeating Harry’s words. “I was out with some friends, you know, having a bit of a breather during the tour. They came up to me and I guess we just went from there,” he says, grinning, hopefully coming off carefree and not showing how tense he is.

“Where did you go from there?” Harry asks, leaning forward, hands intertwined, hair falling over his shoulder, gaze still fucking intense. Louis doesn’t have an answer. Fuck, he doesn’t have any idea how to answer. It’s just something he says, “We went from there”, but questioned like this only suggests one thing, and that’s not what happened, they were just partying for fuck’s sake.

“Well, you know, had a few drinks, enjoyed the music, it was a good time,” he says. Harry lets out a puff of air, almost like he wants to sigh as he looks down at his question cards with a small furrow between his brows. Not a good sign.

“I’m sure it was a good time, as I’ve heard, you had some company afterwards as well, right?” he says, head tilted to the side.

“Um, yeah, uh, we, um, one of my friends offered a ride home to some of the people we met there, it was nice to, you know, letting the energy wear off from the party.”

“Do you often “let the energy wear off” with company?” Harry asks, sounding like he just wonders, not actually cares, but his eyes feel like they see through Louis as he’s fidgeting with his hands.

“Um, yeah, sometimes, yeah, it’s nice, joking around in the car until it’s time to drop everyone off.”

“And sometimes going home with the company,” Harry smirks, trying to be the sassy, cheeky host who suggests dirty things as he looks out at the audience with raised eyebrows, and they’re cheering. Louis is annoyed because he doesn’t need this crap, he knows what Styles is playing at and he doesn’t like it even a bit. It’s not amusing, it’s not something to laugh at.

“Well, no, no, no,” he shakes his head, grinning because it was supposed to be funny, looking down at his lap, his intertwined fingers. He wonders what he had done to deserve this. Surely, stealing that footie ball from the camp, then telling his mom he got it as a gift wasn’t that bad.

“I mean, it must be nice, not having to sleep alone every night, many of us don’t have that opportunity,” Harry says, smiling at the laughing audience.

And Louis knows it’s irrational, because he has to go through this every damn time, the suggestive comments, questions, of course he has. Because that’s what his team wants people to do, to make sure Louis is as much of a slut as possible in the public’s eye, but Harry’s cheeky grin just makes it even worse.

“I don’t think many people get half as much one year as you do in one month,” he addresses Louis with a lopsided smirk, and that’s it, that’s his breaking point.

“I mean, that would be sad, seeing how little I actually am and want to get laid,” Louis shrugs, trying to prevent the shaking of his hands by gripping his thigh. Harry’s eyebrows jump high, his head jerking in surprise blinking before readjusting his features.

“So, the rumours are not true?” he asks, seemingly even more curious, leaning forward, unsettling. Fuck, Louis is going to be fucking homeless tonight, if his team has anything to do about this.

“Well, I mean, I enjoy some company after the parties, you know, but I don’t really take anyone home.” He knows he’s rambling again, but he can only think of “ _do damage control right fucking now_ ”. He refuses to acknowledge how fucked up is that this is his first thought after finally, for the first time ever he voiced his own, very real thoughts on the topic.

“What about Perrie Edwards?” Harry asks, a cheeky grin forming on his lips. “She seems like a very nice company,” Harry notes, probably the worst thing he could’ve said now.

“Perrie and I are just friends, actually, the only time I’ve slept with someone it was a guy, and it was fucking horrible, so, no, I don’t particularly enjoy taking anyone home,” Louis says with one breath, and that’s just beautiful. He managed to destroy his whole image that his team forced on him in one sentence. Does he get an award?

 “Oh. I’m, um, I’m sorry about that,” Harry says, almost quietly, clearing his throat and looking down at his cards. “Um, sorry,” Harry sighs, looking up at his crew again, seemingly looking for someone. “Can we get a small break, I need to gather my thoughts,” he says, brows furrowed and someone calls out “one minute”, and murmurs start up around them.

Louis bites the insides of his cheek, looking down at his lap as his tea is replaced with a fresh one, and by the colour of it he can tell it’s the same crap from his room. He thanks the man who rushes away a beat late. Lou appears on the side of the stage, holding up her make up bag questioning, but who she expects answer from is lost to Louis.

“Alright, can we talk about this or ditch the topic?” he hears Harry say, and has a faint idea that he’s talking to his team, probably on the phone. Of course, no one cares what Louis himself wants, because his feelings are out the window the second his image is on the line.

After a beat Harry huffs out an “okay” and Lou gets up on stage, handing a paper towel to Louis, pulling out her brush and powder.

“Wipe off your face, you’re sweating,” she orders, and Louis quickly obeys, pulling the towel away just in time for Lou to start powdering his face. She then turns to Harry, Louis following her movements, looking at Harry for the first time since the beginning of the break. Harry is frowning at his cards, picking up one as Lou does the same she did to Louis, crumbling it and throwing it in the general direction of his crew.

Through the break they count down, someone calling the numbers like their lives depends on it. When Lou is finally done with Harry, they reach the five second mark, and the make-up artist gets off stage just when they count the last second. The interview starts again, and Louis fidgets in his seat, more anxious about the questions.

“Talking about touring and good times, I’m sure you had a great time writing your songs for your new album, what are your favourites?” is the first one Harry asks, like nothing’s happened and Louis tries to get back into the right headspace for it.

He answers the questions as he would for any other show hosts, but on the inside he’s not at all as carefree. He’s fuming, not quite knowing who he’s mad at: Harry Styles or his team. Rationally he knows it’s not Harry’s fault, it’s his teams, but Harry is just as guilty in pushing the topic until he snapped. He tries not to show how much he wants to frown at Styles in disgust and leaving like a butt hurt teenager.

The next few minutes are torture in Louis’ head, and he knows it’s probably worse in his mind’s eye than it actually is. He feels like he’s too snappy, too rude with his answers, Harry looking down at his questions more often now. Louis will have to check later if he does that a lot in interviews or if just when he doesn’t like the person he interviews.

––

 “Are you out of your mind?” is the first thing he hears when he answers the phone in the car on his way out of the studio.

Louis is not surprised, has seen this coming the moment he walked off stage and Stacy was waiting for him.

Her eyes are piercing, phone clenched tight in her hand as she grabs his arm and leads him away, not even giving him a chance to get his stuff or say goodbye properly. She drags him out into the car, hissing at him for being “so fucking dumb, Jesus, Louis,” barking the management’s address to the driver.

“Liam,” he starts with a weary sigh into the phone, closing his eyes and turning towards the window. He doesn’t want to see Stacy’s pissed off expression as she furiously texts, probably to the agency.

“Louis I love you, you’re like a brother to me, and you know that. If you wanted to come out, you should’ve said so, I could’ve done something – something other than this,” his best friend sounds desperate, with a touch of pity in his voice.

“How much do you know?” Louis asks, because nobody saw the interview yet and the audience was probably sworn to secrecy, even though there’s always one who doesn’t keep their mouth shut.

“Stacy live texted to the whole team-- Jesus, Louis, do you really want to talk about this now? Are you okay?” his tone is concerned, but that doesn’t mean he’s not pissed – Louis basically just made him unemployed. Along with himself, if the clicking of Stacy’s tongue is anything to go by.

“I’m more pissed than anything,” Louis lies, trying to hide his shame and fear. He’s pretty sure he had a smaller panic attack during the one minute break on the show. It’s still there, waiting in the back of his mind to strike with full force once he’s out of the devil’s grip.

“We’re going to fix this,” Liam promises, and Louis wishes they could, wishes he didn’t have to deal with this right now, but his rational mind knows better.

“Okay,” he says, and keeps down the urge to say _“I don’t want to fix anything, I want to be free”_ , because that’s unfair with Liam and his team who worked so hard on keeping his image up. Even if he despises said image.

“I’m going in, alright? Don’t say anything until I’m there and we can talk – fuck, Louis, this is fucked up,” Liam says, fabric rustling in the background as he probably puts on his clothes to get to the management’s office.

“Tell me about it,” Louis snorts into the phone, then hangs up at the answering snicker from the other end. The car paces step by step in a line, Stacy still looking down at her phone, not acknowledging Louis’ conversation with Liam that he’s sure she’d heard.

They arrive to the office around twenty minutes later, parking underground, so there’s probably paparazzi waiting at the front. They’re expecting to close a deal today with James Arthur, Liam told him, the media probably chewing up the story. He’s rushed out of the car and into the lift, Stacy’s heels pacing impatiently as she presses the button to their floor.

He sits in the chair, head down as someone probably important talks to him about how much he fucked up, but he doesn’t pay any attention. He has _Hill Climb Racing_ opened on his phone, and they watch as he reaches a new record on _Moon_ through the glass table they sit at. It’s stupid, they all know he’s not going to care until he can talk to his PR privately.

Liam rushes through the door, long, beige coat still on, he didn’t even put his car keys away as he puts a hand on Louis’ shoulder.

“I’d like to have a word with Louis if you don’t mind,” he tells the people in the room, squeezing Louis’ shoulder as they nod, sighing and leaning back. He follows Liam out of the room and into his own office on the floor.

Liam looks like he wants to go somewhere else for a moment, but then he sighs, going around his table and taking off his coat, hanging it up then sitting down. Louis doesn’t follow his example, standing behind the chair across the table, with his arms folded over his chest.

“Alright, so, we can handle this in different ways, you can come out or we deny everything, talk to the show and tip them to don’t air the footage,” Liam says, full professional, awaiting Louis’ answer, ready to tell him more.

“There’s always one idiot who talks,” Louis mutters. Liam pulls his mouth, frowning and nodding. Right, that’s not really an answer, is it. “I-- How much crap would the management give me if I would come out?” he asks, finally rounding the chair and plopping down.

He still has his stage clothes on. They’re uncomfortable, the trousers too tight around his knees and thighs, his jumpers itchy and too short sleeved. He feels like the powder that Lou previously put on him closes all his pores and his skin is choking.

“Louis, no one wants to see you unhappy--“ Liam starts, but before he can elaborate how much this hellhole cares about him, Louis cuts him off.

“You’re so full of shit,” he snarls, frowning at his best friend, who just rolls his eyes.

“Okay, I don’t want to see you unhappy. Better? Listen,” Liam leans forward, leaning on his elbows and searching for Louis’ eyes. When their eyes meet, Liam smiles at him, small, reassuring, full of warmth.

“You remember when we started this? When I got the job and told you how I sang poems about you and you were mad at me for making a deal with them without you knowing?” Louis simply nods, because of course he remembers. He was mad at Liam for months, even though he wanted nothing but to tell Liam all about his meetings with the management.

“What did I tell you back then?”

“Lots of crap, Liam, I don’t know,” Louis frowns, playing with his fingers.

“I told you, when I got you into it that I’m gonna protect you, right? When they put me as your PR because you were insufferable to the girl they put next to you, I told you I’m gonna do anything in my power to make it the best you had.”

“Yeah, nice job, knob head,” Louis mutters and Liam sighs, rolling his eyes.

“What I’m trying to say is, this is your chance. If you want to be out, then it’s now or never, okay?”

“So, you say we go with it? Let the world see my breakdown?” Louis asks, standing up again and pacing. He wants to come out, of course he does, but not how he did on the interview.

“I’m saying this might be your only chance to come out without having to fight with the management about it. Look, it’s not ideal, but if we play it off as inevitable, they’re gonna be more focused on how to handle it. And at this point, there’s only one way to go, which is defeat and confess. How we do that, is on me, and I put it in your hands. If you want to come out, it is.”

Louis stops, right in front of the wall that looks at the meeting room feet away, where the probably-very-important people talk to each other, gesturing wildly. Stacy is sitting in his place now, looking down at her phone. She looks bored.

“And if they figure out you could’ve cut the footage?” he asks, quiet. He doesn’t do quiet. It’s weird. Louis thinks he likes it.

“Could I?” Liam asks back, sounding smug. “I’m your PR, it’s my job to handle these situations. If anyone says they could’ve handled it better, then they’re welcome to fire me, but I know for a fact that someone doesn’t work with other people very well. Something about his attitude drives PRs up the wall,” he thinks he’s smart, but Louis isn’t reassured. They have a contract, if he refuses to work with any other PR, he’s off for good.

“By then, the “damage” will already be done,” Liam informs him when he voices his thoughts. “You’ll be out, and people are going to talk about you, which means more attention on you and your music. More money, more managements wanting to work with you. Even if this one sends you away, you will find another one in a minute, believe me,” Liam says, his voice kind and reassuring.

“Okay, let’s say I want to come out,” Louis turns around, crossing his arms. This is bullshit, of course he wants to come out. Just not like this. Not at the cost of his and Liam’s career. “How would that go?”

“We let them talk. Let the media speculate that something happened on the show. Make people anticipate it even more. We can make it look like an accident went well, that makes you look apologetic and nice; or we can make you a victim if you want to.”

“No,” Louis shakes his head immediately before Liam can continue. He’s not a victim, is tired of people thinking of him as one. He just makes poor life decisions. It’s all on him, but not on the guy who listened when Louis swore he wants it. It’s not on Styles that he flipped either.

Liam nods, acknowledging Louis’ wish.

“Then you can either come out properly via interview, that would be ideal, seeing then you can tell the public that you have no bad feelings towards Styles or his show. Or you can do it via social media, tweet something like “so happy to be myself” or something like that.”

Louis weighs his options frowning. He doesn’t want a lame tweet, but an interview would be too much, he doesn’t want to go through the whole questioning process again.

“Anything else?” Louis wonders, looking over the shelf behind Liam, where he has books of social media and public image, the PR crap he so enjoyed in college. He turns his gaze at Liam when his best friend doesn’t answer, finding him pursing his lips, shrugging.

“If you have any ideas, go through with it, but I’ll need an answer soon. Possibly by tomorrow, the interview airs the day after that. I’ll need to get someone to interview you if you chose that, or a tweet ready by that time.” As if Louis’ fingers doesn’t work just fine.

“And how are we going to tell the management about it?” Louis asks, gesturing out the window wall he stands in front of. The meeting room quieted down it seems, someone on the phone, the others looking at their direction.

“Don’t worry about that, I’ll be speaking. You just sit back and look pretty,” Liam grins and Louis considers throwing something at his head.

“Fuck you,” he rolls his eyes and Liam laughs as he rises from his chair, moving towards the door, adjusting his clothes. He has a wrinkled suit on top of a checked flannel shirt that he probably just found on his floor. At least his pants doesn’t seem like he rolled over them in the bed.

“Ready?” Liam asks, hand on the handle of the glass door, and Louis wonders how nobody breaks them all the time.

He nods, following Liam as they head back to the meeting room. As they step in, the low murmur dies down, and Liam greets them, pulling out a chair first for Louis, then himself. He leans forward, intertwining his hands on the table, while Louis sits back, pulling out his game where he left off and pretending not to listen to Liam’s speech.

––

 The media starts speculating the next day. Louis doesn’t even have time to fully absorb the things they write about him, about the rumours that go around. He read something about denying the rumour that he’s dating Perrie – correct so far – and something about him doing drugs. Ridiculous. The story that he came out only mentioned once, by the Sun, and surprise-surprise, nobody believes that.

Louis doesn’t have time to pander too much on things, however, because Liam shows up in his apartment at 10 AM and asks him if he decided what to do already. Louis hasn’t. He doesn’t want an interview, he tells as much to Liam too, but a tweet seems too lame for something like that.

“Well, do you know how George, from Union J came out?” Liam asks, and Louis frowns at him from the sofa, where he’s splayed out, bag of Cheetos in his lap, throwing some at Liam at random moments.

“Who’s that?” Louis asks, searching his brain if the name is familiar, coming up blank.

“You met him when we went to the X Factor to check out James. You remember?” Liam raises his eyebrows, sliding off of the arm of the armchair he leaned to when they started talking, into the chair. He swings his legs up the coffee table, sliding down in a semi-lying position, mocking Louis.

“I remember James, Niall and Zayn, whom I talked to from there, you can’t expect me to memorize everyone I meet.”

“You talked to them for half an hour,” Liam looks unimpressed, but Louis just throws a chip at him. He picks it up from his torso where it landed, examining before shrugging and popping it into his mouth. “He quit the band not long after his coming out.”

“Your point?” Louis sighs, eating a Cheetos himself.

“He came out as bi, while you were on tour. It was like, all over the media. He did it in a video he uploaded it to Twitter I think?”

“Well, that’s better than a simple tweet,” Louis hums, then thinks about it. A video where no one asks questions and he can be as himself as possible sounds great. “So, what, I just record myself saying it and that’s it? Done? Over with?”

“Obviously not,” Liam snorts as he catches the next cheesy puff thrown his way. “Many people will want you after that, interviews, more questions. Better make it good or you’ll be asked the same thing over and over again,” he explains, bracing his hands on the arms of the chair, pushing himself in a sitting position.

“I hate interviews,” Louis sighs, letting his head fall back and lolling it left and right. He’s messing up his hair. He doesn’t care.

“I know, but a coming out comes with those. You can’t just drop the bomb and walk away. Cleaning up your mess is part of your job.”

“No, Liam,” Louis grunts, looking at the man from the corner of his eyes. “Cleaning up my mess is literally _your_ job description.”

Liam waves him away, pulling out his phone and start texting.

“Hey!” Louis exclaims, throwing the whole bag towards Liam. It hits his shoulder and the chips fall out into his lap, making Liam look down and frown. “I don’t want interviews,” Louis states, final, hopping up from the sofa and storming out in the kitchen for a tea. Liam follows him, leaving a mess after himself. His housemaid is going to murder him, brutally.

“This is not your choice, Louis. If you don’t want to look for a new management, you’re going to do interviews, like it or not,” Liam says, leaning against the doorway. He’s so full of shit. Just yesterday he was all about anybody happily scooping Louis up for his money.

“I don’t care. Wasn’t it enough what I had to do with Styles? Do I really have to tell them the same thing over and over again?”

It’s not even just that. He hates interviews altogether, the worst part of his work. He is good with people, that’s not the problem. The problem are the questions, the probing into his personal life, having to put himself out there for everybody to judge him by the words he choose, by his expressions. He has seen enough Tumblr posts analysing his smiles.

“What you did on Harry’s show was an emotional reaction. People will think it was unintentional and we already decided it’s not how we’re going to play it off. You’re not a victim, remember? So you either go on another interview, discuss it level-headed so people will say “yes, this guy is okay with his sexuality” or bye millions of dollars record deal. Alright?” Liam doesn’t sound pissed, he sounds tired and like he went through this speech in his head a thousand times. He might even have practiced it in the mirror.

“Fine,” Louis huffs after a few beats. He wants to tell Liam off, reminding him how horrible PR manager he is as he did almost on a daily basis on tour, wants to throw a tantrum like a teenager. He doesn’t, because Liam thinks so little of him already, he doesn’t need more of his judgement. Sometimes he wonders why are they friends.

Liam relaxes, going back to typing on his phone. “I let the team know what the plan is. You’re going to post the video a day after the interview drops, so the public will watch your activity like a hawk. We’ll see after that who will want you on.”

“Golden,” Louis grunts, pouring hot water at his teabag.

“One more month, Louis, then the break starts and you can go home,” Liam reassures. Louis doesn’t feel reassured. He feels like sending Liam home, like quitting this shitshow altogether and blaming everything that went wrong on his best friend. He doesn’t.

Liam is smiling when Louis passes him to the living room, tea in hand. He puts it next to the other cup he have on the coffee table, half drank, cold. It’s ironic, how that cup of tea defines his life now. Unpleasant, straining, leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Cold.

––

 The interview drops the next day. Louis unplugs his router.

––

  _Send over the video before posting it._

_I’m here if you need me! Soph wishes good luck._

“Helpful,” Louis huffs, with no real heat behind it. Liam’s texts just came through as he sits on his sofa, reading through some of the reactions to his interview. His anger subdued since their talk, so he doesn’t texts back Liam to go fuck himself. He knows it’s not Liam’s fault. It’s just easier to blame him when all he has is himself being at fault.

Louis never really thought about what he would do if he would be out. Sure, he played with the thought during tour a lot, but it was never as apparent as it is now. Even in the past few days, the constant worry of what the media says, between sleeping and watching TV he never really thought about it.

Now that he’s about to make a video where he comes out, he can’t help but wonder. What his life is going to look like after this? He can’t imagine anything like he did on tour at the moment. No images of meeting a nice guy and building a relationship pops up in his head. He was so naïve. Just a few months ago he didn’t think about how hard it would be to put himself out there.

Should he write a speech and just say that? Should he tell everything or just the facts? React to the general public’s concern as of what his words in the interview mean? He doesn’t even remember what he said. Should he watch it again, just in case?

_I hear you overthinking from here. Stop it. Just start talking and it’s gonna be fine._

And that’s why Liam fucking Payne is his best friend, even if he hates the guy sometimes. Most of the time. Liam is his PR, hard to have other thoughts than “shut up” about him.

Louis sighs, opening his camera app, turning on the sofa s he’s lying on his stomach. It’s easier to hold the device. He brushes through his hair lazily with his fingers, trying to flatten what sticks up, unsuccessfully, switching to record mode.

 “Hi guys, how are you all? I’m sure you have a lot of questions about yesterday, you know, about the interview. So I thought I’d try to answer a few of them for you. I know what I said in the interview was confusing, but, um, it was true, yeah.

“Yeah, uh, many of you pointed out what I said about. You know, about my experience and. Yeah. I wanted to let you know about that I’m um, I’m asexual. It means that I don’t feel sexual attraction. And it’s alright, you know, you don’t need that to be happy, you know? And I’m happy, I promise you guys, I am. This, you know, being gay and asexual doesn’t really, you know, change anything.

“Um, I just felt like I owe you guys at least an explanation about the whole thing, and thank you for your support and you guys are incredible, truly. Thank you so much for being here for me, I appreciate everything you do to me. And really, no need to worry about me, you know, everything is fine. So, just thank you and I’ll see you guys soon. Yeah. Bye,” he sighs as he ends the recording, quitting the camera and sending the video over to Liam.

It’s shit. He knows it. He should never listen to Liam’s advice; just start talking. Yeah, because it wasn’t his mouth and lack of thinking that got him here in the first place. He should record another one. He should write down something, maybe that one will make more sense.

He waits for the reaction still lying down on the sofa. He opens Instagram, getting the video ready to post. The text comes soon enough, Liam giving the thumbs up and Louis presses post. He hates it.

As he waits for the first reactions to it, he opens up Twitter. The reactions to the interview were various, from calling Louis a liar to saying he was raped, which he wasn’t. It was mostly outrage towards Styles for forcing him to come out, and Louis decides to check what his response was.

Harry didn’t tweet often. You could say almost never. Half of them are grateful ones to his guests on the show, even Louis got one, and he doesn’t know how he didn’t notice, even though he wasn’t on Twitter since the day before the interview.

He checks Harry’s replies too, but it’s mostly the rubbish he tweets, his actual replies are in regards of the show, birthday wishes, and replies to friends. He checks his likes too, because what is Louis Tomlinson if not thorough? He scrolls through the praises of his shows, the thank you tweets from guests, until he reaches a different one. It’s a random guy, Louis doesn’t know what he has 24K followers for. He’s not even verified.

The tweet Harry liked is a picture with a quote that says: “The most important things in a relationship are love, trust and really fucking great sex”. Louis frowns and clicks on the guy’s Twitter profile, where the first tweet is from a few seconds ago. Louis is shocked to see it’s about him.

“Once you find the One, you'll understand why calling yourself "asexual" is just a way to make yourself feel better.”

He scrolls through more of similar crap, frowning the whole time. So Harry has these kinds of friends? He goes back to Harry’s Twitter scrolling further down his likes, looking for the random guy’s handler, seeing more likes from him as he goes. Even a girl, who seems like to be Harry’s sister, mentions him in one of her tweets that Harry liked.

And you know what, Louis was so ready to forgive the guy, but seeing this, how he’s seemingly friends with someone like that, he decides against it. He didn’t even apologize to Louis for forcing him to come out. What a dickhead.

Rationally, he knows he’s just making things up and overthinking, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t care, because he doesn’t want to. Because Styles has liked a tweet from an asshole and that tells Louis more than his rubbish tweets about love and peace.

And maybe because he wants to blame someone else than himself.

––

 “You didn’t say anything about Harry,” Liam mentions later that day, opening a bottle of wine that he brought with him hours ago. Louis doesn’t know why he just lets Liam in sometimes. He wanted to curl up on his sofa with a nice cup of tea, but here he is, cutting up vegetables because Liam Payne has no sense of privacy.

“Should I?” Louis wonders aloud, picking up a piece of paprika, popping it in his mouth and humming at the taste. “I mean it wasn’t about him. It’s my coming out video or whatever,” he shrugs, letting Liam take the vegetable away from him after putting aside the wine to breathe.

“I just thought you would, since the deal is no hard feelings, you forgive him.”

“Yeah, part of the deal was no interviews too, see how that turned out,” he grunts, picking up his knife again as Liam puts tomato in front of him while he starts working on the meat. At Liam’s answering glare Louis sighs, cutting the tomato in half. “I’m not going to forgive some acephobic asshole, alright?” he says, and Liam looks up sharply, eyebrows raised high.

“Acephobic?”

“Yeah, you know, someone who’s--“

“Louis, what are you talking about?” Liam asks, impatient, abandoning the meat to look at Louis with a confused expression. How he is a PR manager if he doesn’t even do his own research is beyond Louis. Of course, he knows Liam is as good as any, with his passion even more so. It’s just easy for him to forget to do his job thoughtfully when his client is his best friend, Louis guesses. Liam said so once.

“Just some asshole friend of his who tweets rubbish about me. Styles likes his tweets all the time, it pisses me off.” Louis finishes the first tomato and moves to the next, setting his jaw. Liam is going to tell him how stupid and irrational it is.

“Really? I didn’t know that,” Liam frowns, picking up the knife again, starting to slice the meat again. “I’ve been following him since his Taylor Swift interview, he always seemed super nice,” he notes, putting the meat in a bowl. Trust Liam to only see the good in someone.

“Well, that’s how life works, isn’t it,” Louis snorts, pushing the chopped tomato towards Liam. “They seem nice, then if you care enough, you see their true colours.”

“Don’t judge him too harshly,” Liam says, taking away the tomato and passing salad over. Of course he would say that. Liam and judgement live in two separate universes. Louis isn’t familiar with that feeling.

“Pour us some wine, would you?” Louis sighs, chopping up the salad with practiced moves. “The least you can do if you invite yourself and your girlfriend over on a disgustingly domestic date is to not let me suffer through it sober.”

“I told you already, Sophia wanted to come over for dinner and celebrate. Appreciate that you have friends,” Liam scolds him as he takes out wine glasses and pours into two. He hands one to Louis, raising his glass and Louis returns the gesture before sipping from it.

“I have other friends than you, you know. Like, Oli, Calvin and-- I have a lot of friends, alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever, put together the salad, would you? I’ll start the meat and the vegetables,” Liam says as he spices the meat, turning around to pick up a pan and a bowl. Louis wonders why he is friends with Liam again.

“I’m not your slave,” Louis snorts, drumming his fingers on the counter as Liam puts the bowl in front of him, then turns away.

“And I’m not yours,” Liam says, smile in his voice as he lays the chicken pieces in the pan, hissing starting up. Louis frowns, confused. Where is Liam even coming from? “So, Styles, what are you going to do about it?” Liam asks, distantly, like a second thought.

“What do you mean?” Louis asks, putting the salad together. There’s a knock on the door and Louis calls out to come in, because it can only be Sophia coming. At least he hopes so.

“I mean that people are going to notice the lack of forgiveness from your part or the lack of apology on his, if he doesn’t do it.”

“You think he would apologize?” Louis raises his eyebrows as Sophia enters the room.

“Who would apologize?” she asks, greeting them lightly as she puts a bottle of wine next to Louis’ salad bowl. She leans down, kissing him on the temple, then going around the counter to greet her boyfriend.

“What’s with you people and wine?” Louis wonders as he picks up the bottle, frowning at the label. “I don’t even like wine.”

“Well, I do and knowing you, I have to buy it for myself so the next time I come here I have something to drink,” she snorts, taking a seat next to Louis. “And who would apologize?” She smiles at Liam who pours wine to her as well.

“Harry Styles, Louis decided that he doesn’t like him,” Liam explains, returning to the meat. Louis rolls his eyes, taking out the dressing and mixing it with the salad. Gosh, Liam makes him sound like a kid. He didn’t just “decide” he doesn’t like Harry. He feels that way, period.

“Why not?” Sophia asks sipping from her wine, raising sceptical eyebrows at Louis. He pushes the salad to Liam’s side of the counter, turning to Sophia with his wine in his hand, giving her most of his attention.

“Harry Styles is apparently best buddies with an acephobic asshole,” Louis explains, swirling around his drink at the bottom of the glass. He feels posh from the wine. Liam sighs behind him and Louis returns it, overacting.

“Okay, fine, not best buddies, but he likes his tweets just about enough. Doesn’t help that on the interview I was the last one he would’ve asked about whenever or not I want to continue. Assholes like that doesn’t deserve my respect, let alone my liking.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound pleasant,” she says, frowning. “You don’t owe him anything anyways. He embarrassed you on TV, he should apologize and be happy if you don’t destroy him on Twitter.”

“That would be the least I’d do, believe me,” Louis snorts, happy that he got at least one of his friends on his side.

––

 The next interview he has to attend to is on the radio, with two hosts who joke a little too much about the interview he had with Styles. It gets significantly better once they start making fun of Harry, mainly the hosts, starting by making an off-handed comment about him.

“What was Styles aiming at anyways, it’s almost like he was jealous,” the female host, Lauren, laughs and Louis grins at her from behind his microphone.

“I mean, who wouldn’t want to tap that,” the male host, John, snorts. “If I would have been the one who had to ask those questions, I would have went straight to, like, ‘so you slept with a lot of people, why wasn’t I one of them’. You know what I mean?” he laughs, looking over at his co-host.

“Of course, but you know, this show isn’t about you, is it now?” she rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry about him, Louis, I try to control him but it’s like calling a plumber on a werewolf. We don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.”

“You don’t, really,” Louis rolls his eyes too, shaking his head. “I’m used to these comments, and just because I don’t have an urge to act upon them, they can still be fun.”

“Look at that, Louis Tomlinson can take a joke, I’ve never heard of that, Lauren,” John says, and Lauren sighs melodramatically. “For some reason she thinks we need to cuddle you and wrap you in blankets, but we don’t, do we?” he winks at Louis, who fondly rolls his eyes.

“I mean, that would be nice,” Louis hums. “I get cold very easy, need me a blanket every now and then.”

“I’m sure you do, I’m sure you do,” Lauren laughs, drowning out her co-host’s snort. “So, what did your mom say?” she asks wondering.

“Did she go all mother-lion mode and demand a crusade on Harry Styles?” joins John, wriggling his eyebrows.

“No crusade and didn’t notice fangs, no, but, you know, she was glad that I finally got to be myself, so that’s awesome,” Louis presses his lips together, smiling tightly at them.

“That’s awesome,” John says on a serious voice. “I bet she’s proud of you.”

“Yeah, she is. She is.”

––

 He sees the first headlines about his coming out two days later, when he goes out for a coffee. He feels the cameras aimed at him from the paps who were probably called on him by his management. He tries to get them off his back by going in a tobacconist, where his own face stares back at him from the cover of a magazine.

He doesn’t remember the shirt he has on in the photo. He thinks it’s the one he wore for his interview with Harry Styles. The only thing making him uncertain, is that on the photo he doesn’t have Stacy breathing down his neck.

He asks for his cigarettes, then points at the magazine when the guy asks him if he wants anything else. The cashier furrows his eyebrows when he sees the photo, then shrugs and rings it up. Louis doesn’t exit the shop as he opens the magazine, turning the page to where they talk about him.

“ _Reason or excuse?”_ reads the headline of the story. “ _Fans who hang out with him say Louis Tomlinson never wanted to sleep with them; is his so called asexuality the reason to it, or just an excuse?”_

Louis takes out his phone, taking a photo of the article, then sends it to Liam with multiple question marks, throwing it in the trash before exiting the shop. He turns to get the coffee he left for in the first place.

His phone starts ringing just as he’s done with taking photos with fans inside the coffee shop. He excuses himself as the last one of them still talks about how brave she thinks Louis is. He thanks her and picks up his phone, still smiling at her as he greets Liam.

“Louis why are you reading that crap?”

“That crap, Liam, is my fucking life,” he informs the guy, rolling his eyes.

“No, it’s not,” Liam sighs, papers shuffling in the background. “Your life is having dinner with me and Soph, calling your mom every Saturday, going out for drinks with Perrie and going home for your sisters’ birthdays.”

“Oh, sure, because my non-existent sex life doesn’t matter at all,” he retorts sarcastically, and Liam groans, something heavy meeting wood in the background – he’s probably in his office.

“Give it two weeks and people will forget about it.”

“’Give it two weeks and people will forget about it’, oh my god, do you hear yourself?” Louis mocks, frowning. Liam doesn’t answer immediately as something shuffles and Liam’s voice sounds distant, muffled through the line.

“Come in.” Somebody says something that Louis can’t make out, then Liam speaks again. “Yes, right, sit down, I’ll be with you in a moment, just let me finish this call,” he says, then he speaks into the phone again. “Lou?”

“Who is there?” Louis asks, confused.

“Just work. Listen, I have to go now, but I’ll call later, maybe I could come over and we can watch a movie? Would you like that?” he asks, with a smile in his voice, but Louis isn’t in such a good mood.

“Sure, whatever,” Louis sighs, then hangs up when Liam says bye.

He doesn’t know why Liam handles it as easy as he does. Guess that’s the benefits of being a PR manager whose job is to handle these things logically and level-headed, but Louis just… He’s not that type. He can’t let go.

He grunts as he sips from his coffee, went cold by the time he finished with the fans, and he throws it in the trash before he hops in the car. He doesn’t remember the last time he was able to drink something hot. Probably none since his interview with Styles.

If that’s not a metaphor to his life at the moment, he doesn’t know what is.

––

 The next time he has to go out for work is Niall Horan’s album release party. Technically, it’s not even work, seeing that him and Niall are at least friendly with each other and he gets invited things like this all the time. The only difference this time that Liam insisted him to go.

It’s a private thing with bouncers who don’t let anyone in without the invitation, but Liam and he get past easily. They greet the first few people they see, Louis lost on their names, and then they move on, further into the building where more familiar faces wave them. Louis smiles at them, waving back, with no intention to mingle just yet.

“I need a drink,” he tells Liam, who does something complicated with his face before he nods, leading them to the bar. They get a shot immediately before they even open their mouths, and they shrug at each other. They knock it back, then Louis orders a Long Island, because that’s the obvious choice when you want to have a good time, even if it tastes like ass.

“Why are we here exactly?” Louis asks as they turn their backs to the bar, looking around the crowd.

“You--“ Liam starts, but cuts himself off as he spots someone. “James! Over here!” he shouts, and moments later Louis sees James Arthur making his way to the bar, smiling at Liam. They hug it out, then James turns to Louis.

“Tomlinson,” he says on a pleasant tone. Louis’ eyes roam up and down on his stance, then smiles at the man. He nods in greeting, which James returns, then rounds them to the bar. Louis raises his eyebrows at Liam.

“You’re here to have a good time. The management said you need to be seen with some celebrities so we can milk this newfound attention on you. And we don’t want to cut your party image immediately so it doesn’t seem like you only did it for your image. It’s a win for everyone,” he explains, but Louis frowns.

“Yeah, a win for the management. I’m just your pretty side piece to show around. I don’t see what I get from this all,” he says, gesturing around the room.

“You’ve been sulking at home for long enough now, it’s time that you go out and have a good time, Louis,” Liam repeats, rolling his eyes. “Try to enjoy yourself a little bit, it won’t hurt you, I promise.”

“Oh I’m having a blast so far,” he grunts, then pushes away from the counter. “I’m going to find Niall and get shitfaced with real friends now,” he says with a hand raised when Liam moves to follow him.

He knows he’s an asshole, but at the moment he can’t care less as he pushes his way through the crowd, greeting faces here and there. It feels like old times, before his coming out, when Liam tried to convince him that he can have a good time while the management only used him for his money.

He’s not mad at Liam, because it’s not his fault. He’s just following orders like the good little soldier he is. Sometimes Louis wonders how the team managed to brain-wash his best friend, who used to be his partner in crime, into the obedient asshole he is nowadays. It probably has a lot to do with money.

He doesn’t find Niall after circling the room twice, so he decides to mingle with others. A guy with an awful hair cut is in the middle of a story about a three-legged cat when he notices Niall, laughing in a corner booth with some people around him. Louis excuses himself, and makes his way to the booth.

Niall notices him when he’s still a few meters away, and hops on his feet, meeting Louis halfway, hugging him while shouting something in his ear that’s too Irish for Louis to understand.

“Come on, mate,” Niall laughs as he pulls away, pushing a drink in Louis’ hand. Louis doesn’t know where it came from, and what’s in it, but he doesn’t protest as he’s sat next to Niall, the lad’s arm around his shoulder.

“Tomlinson,” he sees Zayn Malik smile at him, and he returns it before his attention is back on Niall who tells a story about him and Louis partying together to one of his friends. He doesn’t remember when that happened, but from the story, Louis guesses he was absolutely shitfaced.

“Oh and, Harry, wasn’t it you who made that interview with him,” Niall turns to a guy Louis didn’t notice before. Now, the blood runs out of his face as he sees Harry Styles sitting on the sofa opposite him.

He has some weird floral suit on, one arm thrown over the back of the sofa behind Nick Grimshaw, and his legs crossed, showing off his shiny boots. His hair is long and curly as Louis remembered, eyes less intense and more amused than on the interview.

“What was that interview about again, I know people talk about it a lot,” Niall continues without any notice of how Louis tenses up under his arm, ready to flee.

“It was about how big of an asshole Styles is,” Louis says with a bitter smile, and Harry’s eyes flicker over at him with a furrow between his brows.

Louis raises his eyebrows in challenge as he sips from his drink - rum and cola, apparently. Harry opens his mouth to say something, then he just sighs, raising his drink, but before it reaches his lips, he replies.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” he says at last, sipping from his drink, which seems to be a mojito.

“Oh, I’m sure you feel awful,” Louis frowns, which earns him a few wondering looks from others.

“I do,” Harry nods, closing his eyes a second longer than a blink. Niall claps his hand on Louis’ shoulder where his arm still rests around him, and someone starts to talk about his new single.

Louis knows the polite thing would be to engage in that conversation, but he can’t get his eyes to leave Styles’ face as he runs his hand through his hair, throwing it back. Harry looks at him too, his expression unreadable. Louis’ jaw twitches, to which Harry’s brows furrow, then he looks down. It feels like a win somehow.

“I think what you got going on with Slow Hands is pretty rad,” Louis mentions when the singles in Niall’s album comes up. “Good choice if you ask me.”

“Thanks, mate!” Niall grins at him with a shine in his eyes that tells Louis it’s important to him. He likes that expression on the lad’s face. He can see himself, years ago, when he was excited about music, when he thought he could have the whole world at his feet. Before his management fucked him over, Liam being the first straw.

“I really like your album too, Louis,” Harry pipes up, looking somewhat hopeful at Louis, who frowns at him. Is this supposed to be some kind of way of complimenting his way onto Louis’ good side?

“I’m sure you do,” Louis says sarcastically. If Styles liked his album so much, he could have just asked about it in the interview.

“I mean it,” Harry frowns back at him. “I think your single choices were great,” he says hopeful yet again, and Louis is done with the conversation.

“Yeah, well, they weren’t all my choices and I don’t like them, so,” he lies. He actually thinks the single choices were great, better than the ones he would have chosen, but he’s not going to give Harry the chance to agree with him.

“I know what you mean,” someone else cuts in before Harry can answer, and the conversation shifts to music management and their co-writers. Then they start to talk about who in the industry totally fakes their career by not writing their own songs, which leads them to fake celebrities altogether.

“I can’t believe none of you mentioned Taylor Swift yet,” says a young lad next to Zayn. “She’s like, The Fake Celebrity, with capitals,” he laughs.

“Guess that’s why she had a thing with Styles,” Louis mentions offhandedly, not really thinking about how Harry hears him as he sips from his new drink, caipirinha. He’s never had it, but he finds he likes it.

“Like you had that thing with Perrie?” he hears Harry saying, and as he looks up, Harry’s still the stance of causality, leaning back and sipping his own drink. It pisses Louis off. He snorts at Harry, shifting where he got rid of Niall’s arm and is now sitting leaned back.

“No, because Perrie and I never even kissed,” he fires back, eyebrows raised.

“Oh, come on, man, you can tell us,” Niall says, wriggling his eyebrows. “You can’t say there was nothing going on there? Not even a little kiss after you got home?”

Louis doesn’t know if Niall lived under the rock these past few weeks, but he’s not up for his teasing at all. He frowns, shaking his head at the disappointed lad.

“No, there wasn’t, Niall, you don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says final, and grimaces at his drink.

“That’s your excuse?” Harry suddenly leans forward, making Louis’ head spin, or maybe that’s the caipirinha. “You never do it and people are just supposed to know what’s in your head? What happens in private?”

“I’ve never said that,” Louis rolls his eyes. “What are you even talking about?”

“You’re mad at me for the interview not going the way you wanted it to go, fine, whatever, but don’t hold me accountable for not knowing everything about your life. It’s like you expect me to know how ‘fucking horrible’ your first time was.

“Blame me all you want, but you were the one who flipped and it wasn’t my fault for asking obvious questions on an interview that’s meant to be like that,” he grunts, then pushes himself up, leaving the corner in a flash.

Louis gapes after him, while Grimshaw is quick to excuse himself and run after Harry. Louis looks over at Niall with a stunned expression, to which he gets a shrug in return. He clears his throat and quickly finishes his drink while the conversation picks up about girl bands, and Louis says his goodbyes as he leaves.

He looks for Liam whom he finds still at the bar, laughing at something someone said. He sneaks up on them with a smile, and excuses Liam as well, tugging him after with a grip on his arm.

“Louis, what?” Liam asks when they’re out of the crowd and are at the checkroom.

“I want to leave, that’s what!” he says as he rounds the bouncer, when Liam halts to a stop, tugging his arm out of Louis’ grip.

“Come on, man, we’ve talked about this,” he says. Louis rolls his eyes, grimacing.

“Look at Instagram, we took pictures, I was a good little prop, can we leave now, please?” he hisses as some people pass them.

“I thought we would leave with--“

“No, Liam, I said I want to leave now, I want to go home and talk to my best friend, can we do that now, _please_ ,” he insists, anger building more and more inside his ribcage.

“I thought we talked about this. On parties like this, we leave with more celebrities so there’s--“

“Do you even care about me at all?!” Louis snaps, letting a little bit of his anger out. He can’t believe Liam is still so fixated on the public when Louis is clearly upset.

“What?” Liam asks surprised at the anger. Louis watches him, how he doesn’t fucking get it, how he doesn’t care about Louis, only his job, and he feels something break. It may be the door as he storms out it, but he doesn’t care as he sits in the familiar black SUV that’s always just fucking there, everywhere he goes.

He gets home feeling upset and sorry for himself. How dare Styles blame him for the whole thing? And how dare Liam call himself his friend while all he cares about is their work? Okay, Louis agreed to take him on as his PR, but that sure doesn’t mean they’re not friends anymore? That they’re only colleagues at this point?

He’s fuming as he puts on the kettle. Harry says it was Louis’ fault that he came out the way he did, and-- alright, it was, on a level, but still. Styles went too far with his questions, he didn’t have the right to ask them the way he did. Plus there’s that acephobic asshole friend of his, whose tweets he likes left and right. That sure can’t be Louis’ fault.

Knowing that, he doesn’t believe a thing Harry says. He can play the good guy and say sorry as much as he wants. The tweets stay, the likes stay and most importantly, his attitude towards asexual people based on his likes stay.

On an impulse, Louis pulls up Twitter on his phone and tweets, careful not to start a feud again, because last time the management had his ass for it. And by management, he means Liam.  

“Nobody wears clothes like that since the ‘70s”

He’s satisfied as he pours the water on his teabag, moving to the living room as he watches the aftermath of his tweet, smirking at the few who claim it’s about Styles.

His tea is still cold.

It doesn’t feel like a win this time.

––

 He doesn’t hear about Harry for a few days, even though he keeps a close eye on the tabs, wondering if they mention their fight at the party. Of course they never do, since the party was private and no journalist could make it past the bouncers.

It’s out of boredom that he turns on the TV, surfing until he notices a familiar face. He stops changing the channels, eyes narrowing as he listens to Harry making puns as the first section of his show. He’s wearing a robe, tied tight, not letting anything show underneath.

That’s when Harry mentions him.

“This week I was at Niall Horan’s album release party, and let me tell you, he was on the loose with liqueur.” He waits until the audience settles, laughing at the reference of Niall’s single. “I ran into Louis Tomlinson as well, he was as lovely as always,” he takes a pause, then; “too bad his personality doesn’t match his outfit.” Harry doesn’t wait for the audience to laugh it out.

“Speaking of which, I visited my dad yesterday, look, what I got,” he says, then he’s undoing the robe and dropping it.

He reveals a bright red suit, with the most obnoxious floral pattern. Underneath it is a dark frilly shirt, that Louis is sure belongs to a woman. He’s smiling wildly, showing off his dimples and teeth, his arms spread wide as the audience cheers. He even spins once to show off his outfit.

“This is not the only thing I’ve found in his closet though,” Harry says, turning and gesturing at the screen on his right, a picture popping up, presenting Harry, hiding in a closet, smiling widely into the camera from between two Hawaiian shirts. The audience cheers and they laugh, and Louis doesn’t find anything funny on it.

“Too bad Louis Tomlinson couldn’t join me though,” he sighs dramatically. “He would’ve loved all the clothes from the ‘70s,” he says grinning as the audience cheers again, hollering like its fucking funny.

Louis frowns at his TV, squirming in his seat on the sofa, taking his feet off the coffee table to curl up by the arm, pulling a throw pillow behind him and a blanket over his shoulders. On the show, they move on to the new guest. Harry goes to behind his table, interviewing the guest, crackling jokes and asking nice questions.

Louis wonders what’s Styles’ deal is. It’s obvious that he doesn’t like Louis now, and he thinks about reasons why. Sure, after the interview Louis wasn’t the nicest to him, but still. He’s being very nice to his current guest, all jokes and no invasive questions, even though Louis knows everybody has their flaws to point out. Was it only that his mistakes were easy to pick out? Or Harry didn’t like him from the start?

But again, he didn’t have a reason to dislike Louis, not one he knows of. Sure, you don’t need to meet someone to dislike them, but everybody deserves a chance. And Harry didn’t seem like someone who dislikes Louis when they were in the break room.

He watches the whole show, sometimes finding himself laughing or grinning at a joke Harry makes, actually enjoying it. He frowns at himself as he feels disappointed it’s over, so he pulls his laptop closer on the coffee table and gets ready to binge watch some of the episodes.

For research, of course. He needs to know if Harry’s obvious about disliking someone, like he was with Louis. It’s 4 AM by the time he finishes the third one, and he decides to call it a night, research long forgotten.

––

 Besides his late nights finding himself anticipating and watching Harry’s shows, Louis doesn’t hear about him for a few weeks.

He talks to Liam, briefly and all business, not ready to decide if he believes his apology he made a week after the party. Liam tries to get him to join him and Sophia on another date night, but he declines every time, claiming to have different plans.

It takes a month that flies by, to meet Liam outside the management office, going for a coffee. He takes a few pictures with a few fans while his friend gets the drinks, choosing to take a walk instead of settling in a seat where they could be overheard and fans could ambush them.

“Sorry for being distant lately,” is what Liam starts with, walking comfortably at Louis’ pace down the walkway towards a park. “The office was busy with the new deals being made, and it seems like I’m good enough to train newbies, how cool is that?” he grins at Louis, who frowns back at him.

“Awesome, Liam, I’m glad you’re having a good time,” he says more grumpy than intended. Liam sighs, shaking his head besides him. “What?”

“Nothing. Just--“ he grunts, sipping from his coffee. “This is a good thing, you know? I’m being given more responsibility, I might even get a promotion. I thought you would support me, you’re my friend.”

“I support you,” Louis rolls his eyes, not even understanding what Liam is about. “I don’t keep you around for compliments, hence being an asshole, you’re actually a decent PR. I just don’t like how you seem to value that more, than being my friend,” he explains, hoping it gives Liam an epiphany.

“Alright, listen,” Liam stops, holding onto Louis’ arm to stop him as well. “I’ve been thinking, since the party. I see where you’re coming from, that it feels like we’re not friends anymore. And--“ he sucks in a deep breath, like he’s about to get punched. “I have a lot of work with the new deals the management takes on more artists lately and they need everyone on board. That’s why they’re taking on newbies as well, and I could live without having to explain everything to a kid all over, I have enough on my hands.”

“Then why didn’t you say no?” Louis asks annoyed. Liam is such a people pleaser. If the management tells him to jump, all he asks how high. It’s frustrating sometimes.

“Because I think,” he pauses. “I could train the newbie for you, Louis,” he says and Louis frowns, taking a step back.

“What? Why?” he asks confused.

“Because of what you said at the party, that’s why,” Liam explains, but doesn’t let Louis cut in. “Louis, we’re friends. Work should only come second to that. With the management breathing down my neck lately, I can’t be both, and I don’t want to lose you. Your life is hell right now and I should be by your side, supporting you, instead of pushing you to go to these fucking interviews and all. I want to be here for you.”

“I’m--“ Louis starts, not knowing what to say suddenly. Liam is right, and he’s not as much of an asshole as Louis thought. He’s just having as much of a hard time managing this situation as Louis. He shouldn’t have been such a bastard in return.

“So if you accept that, I want the new kid to be your PR instead of me, and we can return to being just friends. What do you think?” he asks with a hopeful expression on his face.

“I think it’s disgusting how mature this conversation is,” he says at last, in a weak attempt to loosen up the mood. “But fine. Now, can we please go home and have pizza?”

––

 “Hey, how did we get into Styles’ show?” Louis asks a few days later as they longue on Liam’s sofa, with a beer in front of Louis and wine glasses in front of Liam and Sophia.

“Whatever do you mean?” Liam asks lazy, focus still on the movie that plays in the TV. Some sort of Marvel, Louis thinks.

“Were we invited or did you just say ‘we’re going’ and that’s it?” he wonders, sipping from his beer while Sophia raises her eyebrows at him.

“They’ve been bugging us for ages, but it was one of the guys in the office finding a clip from it that made us accept. It was with Taylor Swift I think,” Liam shrugs. “I thought it was hilarious, so I thought you might have fun. Apparently, I was wrong.”

“Apparently,” Louis snorts.

“Why are you asking anyways?” Sophia asks, curious behind her wine glass.

“Why do you want to know why am I asking?” Louis narrows his eyes at her, clearly just messing with the girl, who smirks at him.

“I don’t know, why don’t you answer, it’ll make me answer easier,” she says, laughing at him when he flips the bird at her. They fall silent for a few minutes.

“How desperate were they?” Louis asks after a while, and Sophia groans. “What?”

“Louis, let it go already, you’re so obsessed with Styles, one would think you have a crush on him,” she snickers, earning a pillow thrown at her, which she dodges shrieking.

“I’m not obsessed at all, okay, but that doesn’t change the fact he’s the one who made me come out and things like that tend to be hard to let go of,” he huffs when Liam hands him back the pillow, eyes fixed on the movie.

“Desperate enough, it was hard to ignore the tweets from Harry,” Liam says like he just heard the question.

“His tweets?” Louis’ eyebrows run up, and if it wasn’t for Sophia’s equally surprised expression he’d even take her huffing about his subject of obsession seriously.

“Yeah, or at least the show’s. It’s on their official Twitter page, but I don’t know how much of it actually is Harry. Once he said he’s in charge of that page but I doubt it, seeing his patterns of tweeting and the show’s tweets; they don’t match,” he explains evenly. “Now can we stop talking about Louis’ crush and watch the movie?”

Sophia and Louis look over at each other, then Louis finds the girl doing the same as him and reaching for a throw pillow. She’s swinging it, hitting Liam on the arm just as Louis’ flies through the air and Liam is quick to shriek and dodge so instead of his head it catches on his raised arm.

“Hey! Why am I attacked?!” he exclaims, eyes amused as he gapes at Louis.

“Because you’re boring,” Louis answers and Sophia laughs. They settle back, all of them focusing on the movie, mood light and even Louis doesn’t feel the need to wonder about Harry for a while.

––

 It’s another week before Louis is obligated to go out, this time on a birthday party. It’s less of a work thing, seeing they’re celebrating Leigh-Anne, one of Louis’ friend’s birthday. He considers not going, but Perrie promises it’s not going to be a big deal, mostly just friends, so he agrees.

He and Liam go as colleges again, but this time Liam swears to him he’s not there to work, but to have a good time with Louis. They enter the building, a small, elite club with a tiny stage area for the times actual bands perform.

Now, on the stage they immediately notice Niall, arms around Ed Sheeran as they sing into mics, some Irish-sounding song. They’re grinning as they hop up and down, kicking their legs every now and then, swinging side to side or dancing in a circle.

Louis laughs at them, pointing them out to Liam, who seems amused as well while leading them to the bar. They get a shot immediately, and they kick it back before someone knocks on their backs. Turning, they find Perrie grinning at them wildly.

It’s been a while since they met, so they hug each other in greetings before Louis notices the rest of her band talking to a few people a few meters away. He zeros in on Leigh-Anne and sneaks up behind her to pull her in a hug from behind. The girl lets out a startled yelp before she relaxes when Louis shouts happy birthday in her ear and she turns, returning the hug.

Liam greets her next and they talk about something about birthdays before Niall appears next to them, sweaty and full of energy, demanding drinks.

It really feels so much friendlier than other parties Louis was required to appear, and he feels at ease in this circle of friends. They drink to Leigh-Anne, then to themselves, then one more just for the sake of it. By the time someone else takes over the stage, Louis feels reasonably tipsy, hanging off Perrie’s side, talking shit about other celebrities with Ed.

He doesn’t recognizes the person’s voice on stage as he starts singing some upbeat rap song before Niall’s shouting something in his ear, then turns his head. And there he is, his best friend with a stranger, seemingly having a great time singing.

Louis gapes, and feels around for his phone, recording it quickly to send it to Sophia and to tease Liam about it later. Except it’s good. Liam actually has a great voice. Who knew?

He cheers loudly with the others as he finishes, flushed, grinning like a puppy who’s been praised. He throws himself at his best friend as he approaches them, and everybody’s complimenting him as they drink to him too.

Louis feels more than a little tipsy when it’s time to them to throw themselves into the crowd to dance, so he lets go, swinging and rocking to the electronic music that takes over. Sometimes he has friends on his side to dance with him, sometimes he’s on his own.

The next song ends from the DJ and a new beat starts up, less electronic and more rock-ish. Then the singing starts, and Louis enjoys the music as a strange voice starts singing. He looks over at the stage when he hears the lyrics “she goes home to a cactus” because really? That was the best the guy could come up with?

And shit, of course it was, because the guy isn’t anyone else but Harry Styles, and Louis would’ve known. Just a guy like him could come up with such lyrics. Or not. Louis has no idea about the song, for all he knows it could’ve been a Presley song and Louis wouldn’t know.

“Just enjoy,” Perrie shouts in Louis’ ear and he rolls his eyes, turning to her and grabbing her waist as she holds onto his shoulder, and Louis starts dancing with her, some sort of weird formal dance. Perrie doesn’t seem to mind as she laughs, head thrown back and swinging with Louis, going along when he spins her around, then pulls back.

The song is over too soon, and Louis is glad for Perrie’s distraction as they stumble up to the bar with their arms around each other. They order shots and kick them back before Perrie excuses herself to the bathroom and Louis stays at the bar, waiting patiently.

And okay, maybe he’s more drunk than he thought as he tries to sit up on the bar stool, almost falling backwards, but a strong, wide palm stops him, steadying him. He looks back to thank whoever helped him out, except its Harry Styles smiling at him.

Louis rolls his eyes, turning away as an act of protest, signalling the bartender for another shot, but what he gets is a cocktail instead. He frowns at the bartender, who shrugs and gestures behind him with his chin. Harry is standing there, reaching around Louis for his own glass and moving next to Louis, leaning uncomfortably close. Louis tries to lean away, but Harry’s hand is still on his back, and he feels his hot breath as he talks directly into Louis’ ear.

“It seemed like you enjoyed it last time,” he says, gesturing at the glass with his hand.

“I don’t need you to buy me drinks,” Louis replies, frowning and turning away from Harry to pick up the cocktail. Caipirinha.

“Technically everything is on the girls tonight, so I’m not buying you anything,” Harry says. Louis looks over at him, still grimacing, then he can’t help the mean laugh that escapes him as Harry tries to take his own straw in his mouth, missing and ending up with it in his nose.

“You’re a fucking idiot,” Louis laughs, and he’s intending it to be mean, but Harry doesn’t catch on as he pouts and drinks from the glass instead. Louis rolls his eyes, amusement fading away. He steps away, wanting to go out for a cigarette when Harry leans in again, and this time Louis doesn’t have time to pull away.

“You wanna get some fresh air?” he asks. Louis furrows his brows, making a face at Harry, because really? They’re not even friendly, why does Harry assume he wants to spend time with him?

“No,” he answers, stepping away and out of Harry’s reach, going to the dance floor, spotting the girls and joining them in a smaller group dance.

He doesn’t even dance through the first song when he’s pulled away by Niall, leading him through the crowd and out in the backdoor, where a smaller group is smoking by the trash can there. Louis spots Zayn, but before he can greet him, his good mood fades as he sees who he’s talking to. Does this guy follow him or something?

“Are you following me or something?” he hears himself ask as he narrows his eyes at Harry, his own voice strangely muffled after the loud music inside.

“I was invited, just like you,” Harry shrugs, and Louis waves at Zayn’s concerned look.

“You know what I mean,” he says, reaching for the cigarette someone from the group offers to him.

“I told you I wanted to go, get some fresh air,” Harry rolls his eyes.

“Wait, you’re talking now?” asks someone Louis doesn’t know, but looks like Olly Murs.

“No, he’s talking, I’m trying to get as far away from him as possible,” Louis explains, folding his arms, looking at Harry daring him to protest.

“What’s your problem?” Harry grunts, swinging his glass, gesturing at Louis with it. “You still mad about the interview?”

“Yeah, you know things like someone forcing me to come out tend to stick with me,” Louis says, aiming for casual, coming out as angry.

“I already apologized. I don’t know what else you want me to do,” Harry exclaims, throwing his free hand up.

“To fuck off out of my life.”

“Well, sorry for having some mutual friends,” Harry says with wide eyes. “Do you want split custody over them? Maybe you can have Niall on every Tuesday, Thursday and Saturday, Zayn every weekend and Perrie for the week, how does that sound?” he mocks, and Louis hates when people make fun of him.

He doesn’t think before he swings his drink, splashing it all over Harry’s front, glaring.

“Fuck you,” he snarls at last, then storms inside, telling Liam he’s going home. It must say a lot about his appearance that Liam doesn’t even hesitate, just leads him out and to the car.

Thankfully, he doesn’t remember throwing up at home, then complaining about how mean Harry Styles is to Liam through his tears.

––

 Harry tweets about the night, short and simple:

“Some people just can’t respect a nice outfit.”

––

 “No.”

“Louis--“

“Mr. Tomlinson to you. And no.”

“But--“

“No.”

“Liam--“

“Oh no, this is your turn, TJ,” Liam says amused from his chair in his office, fucking around on his phone, probably texting Sophia how ridiculous they’re being. This is the first time Louis met the newbie Liam is training for him, and so far he’s not impressed.

The kid is young, probably fresh out of college, and his first words to Louis were “Hi, Mr. Tomlinson”. Louis reminded him he’s not his father, to which the kid turned red like a tomato. Louis shouldn’t have so much fun messing with the kid.

The thing is, him and Liam already had this fight, two nights ago when Liam told him about the award show. And this time, Louis didn’t take any chances, looked up the people who usually went on these things, just to realize TV show hosts went a lot. He wasn’t about to risk running into Harry again.

Liam could only convince him with the promise of booze and food. That was the only reason Louis agreed.

Liam didn’t tell any of this to the new guy though, it was TJ’s first mission to get Louis to go. Liam said say no at first, hear him out, then agree to go, but that was just bullshit. That wasn’t how Louis functioned if he wasn’t convinced beforehand, and if this guy will have to deal with unconvinced Louis eventually, they should just throw him in the deep water.

“Okay, listen, there’s gonna be quite a few musician guests and it would be good for your publicity--“ Louis cuts him off, making a sound like the buzzer when the answer is wrong.

“I told you you’ll never get anywhere if you talk about his publicity,” Liam looks up with a frown on his face, like he’s disappointed.

“Your friends,” TJ says, his voice rising at the end, making it a question. His expression is pained like if he doesn’t get the right answer, he’s going to lose everything. “Your friends will be there, and they’ll want you there to have fun,” he nods, seemingly trying to convince himself that he’s confident in his reasoning.

“And who are my friends?” Louis raises his eyebrows, eyes not leaving the Rubik cube he stole from Liam’s shelf behind his table, and is messing with in his seat.

“Perrie Edwards and… um…”

“You didn’t tell him what relationship I have with people?” Louis looks over at Liam with a frown, who looks at him like he grew a second head.

“Of course I told him.”

“I’m just trying to--“ TJ starts, but Louis cuts him off with a sigh and pulls his feet off of the table.

“This is pointless. He can’t handle it, I give up,” he announces, throwing the Rubik cube on the table, reaching for his coat. “See you on Saturday, bro, remember you promised booze and food,” Louis tells Liam, then turns to TJ before he shakes his head, leaving the office without another word.

“What did I do wrong?!” he hears TJ exclaim on his way to the elevator, and smirks for himself, entering the lift and leaving it to Liam to handle.

––

 “You were mean to him,” Liam says as a greeting when he enters the building from the red carpet, having posed enough for the next century. Liam, of course, got past the crowd without as much as a camera aimed at him, and so he was already waiting for Louis with a glass of something in his hand.

“Excuse me?” Louis asks as he takes the drink and sips from it. Rum and coke, great.

“TJ. I told you to go easy on him.”

“Yeah, well, and I told you it’s not a coincidence that my best friend is my PR manager, Liam, you’ve known me forever. You, Sophia and my mum are probably the only ones who could ever convince me to do something against my liking. What did you expect from someone who has the confidence of a bullied nerd?”

“You’re bullying nerds now, Tomlinson?” he hears a familiar voice say and he turns with a roll of his eyes to Harry Styles. And of course, on his side is Nick Grimshaw, because Louis’ life isn’t complicated enough without him.

“Oh, I’m sure you can give me tips on that one, Styles,” he shoots back, raising his eyebrows. Harry looks torn for a moment before he sighs, running his hand through his hair.

“Right. I don’t know, you seem to be the expert here. Just ask my Gucci suit from the other night.”

“Oh, that was Gucci?” Louis pretends to be surprised. He looked it up online the day after. It cost more than £2000. He was glad it was only caipirinha and not red wine he thrown on it.

“Nice things cost a lot,” Nick jumps in, looking Louis up and down with a disapproving look.

“I’m pretty sure my socks cost more than your whole outfit, Grimshaw,” Louis deadpans, slipping one hand in his suit pants.

“Alright, boys, if we’re done measuring our cocks, let’s go and find ourselves some seats, shall we?” Liam asks, face amused. Louis doesn’t like how entertaining he finds their banter, and Harry pauses for a moment as well, seemingly taken aback, like he just noticed Liam.

“You’re his PR, right?” he asks, reaching out a hand to Liam, who accepts it.

“Liam Payne, it’s nice to meet you,” he smiles at Harry, shaking hands with Nick as well. Louis rolls his eyes, and Liam sighs, gesturing him towards the seats over at the stage. He and Louis part from Nick and Harry in search of their seats, taking them and waiting for the night to start.

It’s surprisingly uneventful after that, watching people get awards, listening to bullshit thanks speeches. They don’t leave immediately, going around and congratulating to others.

Liam goes for a new round of drinks, leaving Louis outside with the crowd, and he’s just about to mingle when someone steps up next to him, taking hold of his elbow. He looks down and over at the figure next to him, frowning at Harry’s tight expression.

“What do you want, Styles?” he asks a little harsher than intended.

“I don’t want to fight. In fact, I just want to make up already,” he says, gesturing a little further away from prying ears with his head, and Louis rolls his eyes before reluctantly joining him.

“So what, you don’t like being called out on your bullshit?” Louis asks, hands on his hips.

“No. Louis, look, I’m not sure I understand what your problem with me is. I messed up, sure, it wasn’t our best moment, but you must know that the interview wasn’t me wanting to shame you. I got a list of questions, I got recommendations what to ask, and those usually are not optional. I’m sorry, and I wish it would’ve gone differently, but it didn’t.

“I know you don’t like the way it happened, but if you really didn’t want it go out to the public, I’m sure your management could’ve come up with something. Which tells me, you were the one who let it happen, so I don’t get why you’re so mad at me.

“It wasn’t ideal, it wasn’t nice and smooth, but it happened, and not you, nor I could do anything about that at this point. So if I could do anything - other than apologize, seeing I already did that - to make it up to you, tell me and I’ll try. Okay?”

Louis frowns at Harry, seeing his eager and lost expression. Harry really doesn’t know anything, does he? The thing is, Louis isn’t mad at him for the interview. Sure, sometimes when someone tweets a gif about it, it makes him cringe and wanting that to never happen, but he knows it wasn’t completely Harry’s fault.

“I’m not mad because of the interview,” he says looking away, not feeling like explaining to Harry that should be obvious.

“No?” Harry frowns, brows furrowing. “Then what--“

“You and your Daniel what’s-his-face best friend making fun of me is my problem,” Louis huffs, crossing his arms over his chest. “I get it, okay, people just don’t understand sometimes, that’s fine. But don’t expect me to be your biggest fan when you dismiss my whole existence.

“Oh, and, next time you accidentally make someone come out, you might want to consider asking them about whether or not they want to continue the interview rather than their management. People tend to be a little emotional after things like that,” he says bitter, as an afterthought, frowning at himself.

He knows that one bothered him since the interview, he even told Sophia as much, but he didn’t realize it was such an issue to him. Which is bullshit, because he hates when people do that. They act like he’s not even a human, just an asset to his management, like he belongs to them, and he has no real feelings. Like he needs the management’s approval to do anything.

Louis doesn’t. He’s not like that. He’s not some doll they pull on strings, and that has been the number one reason he refused to work with anyone else than Liam as his PR manager. Liam is his friend, first and foremost, so if Louis says he doesn’t want to do something, Liam considers it instead of just shrugging it off and dismissing.

He doesn’t wait for Harry’s answer this time, just turns on his heels and leaves, searching for Liam and sticking to his side for the rest of the night.

––

 It’s at the after party that he sees Styles again. They all changed into different outfits, and Louis is amused to notice Harry’s Hawaiian shirt from the photo in his father’s closet. He’s glad they talked, because it means Harry isn’t going to try and force a conversation like he did the last few occasions they’ve met.

Liam doesn’t come to the party, because Sophia is leaving for a few days tomorrow, and Liam said he wants to spend the last night together. Louis tries to erase the smug expression on his face when he told him that.

Before Louis got the balls to tell him about his asexuality, he learned way too many details about Liam’s sex life he certainly never wants to remember. Then Liam was all tense around Louis for a while when Louis told him, not telling him anything about his love life until Louis snapped and told him he just doesn’t need the bedroom stories, others are fine.

It’s been a while, and Louis finds it nice not having to hear the details of Niall’s hook up from the other night, rather getting a side eye and a wink, no details involved. The down side is, when Zayn starts to talk about his single _, Pillow Talk_ , people give him cautious looks before they change the subject.

He’s having fun so far, until he goes to get a drink and finds Harry sitting on a bar stool, sour look on his face as he pushes around ice cubes in his mojito. Louis stops for a moment before he rolls his eyes and pushes up next to him, ordering another rum and coke, leaning on the counter.

“Quit sulking, Styles, it’s not a good look on you,” he says nonchalantly, sighing. “If I’m the reason for your sour face, forget it. Sometimes people just don’t get along, if everyone would be so butt hurt over that, they would be depressed all the time.”

“Yeah, because those people mean nothing to them. Sorry for feeling sorry for myself when one of my favourite musicians turns out to be an ass and hates my guts,” Harry grunts, turning a little as if trying to ignore Louis’ presence.

“That’s why they say never meet your heroes,” Louis says amused, taking his drink and sipping from it, still at the bar.

“Oh? Which of your heroes have you met?” Harry asks without emotion, turning back to Louis.

“Niall, for one,” he grins, earning a snort from Harry. “But no, I’m not talking about me,” he sighs, taking out the straw from his drink, sucking the leftover drink out of it before he puts it on the counter.

“Louis--“ Harry starts, but Louis shakes his head, pushing away from the counter.

“Don’t need your sweet talk. Stop pouting and have fun. This is a celebration, not a pity-party. You drag the mood down,” he says, then leaves, going to find Niall and the rest of the gang.

––

 It’s only unfortunate that the next gathering is James Cordon’s _Late Late Show_ monthly wrap party, and Louis needs to be there by default. To him, James is like an uncle, he was the one who looked out for him when he first moved to London, and their families were always close, so when he got the time, he attended those parties.

He doesn’t know why Harry Styles was invited, seeing how James called Louis the night of the interview and told him, Harry didn’t have the right to do that, but he’s still proud of Louis.

Despite the earlier friendly comment, Louis doesn’t feel like him and Styles made up at all. He felt sorry for him, he offered a few comforting words, that’s all. It doesn’t mean they’re friends, and it doesn’t mean Louis doesn’t hate him.

Still, when he enters the building, he’s met with Harry’s wide smile, making him confused, frowning at the guy. He doesn’t stop to talk to him, but skips over to James, hugging him and letting him drag him into the conversation he’s having with some guy Louis doesn’t recognize.

Louis excuses himself when the topic shifts to families and goes to get himself a glass of anything that has alcohol in it. He finds himself chatting with people he’s fairly sure he knows. When he gets out of their grip, he quickly gets a drink and turns to look for James, whom he finds on the other end of the room, talking to Harry, explaining something.

“Well, tell him that yourself,” James is saying just as Louis nears them, and Harry’s eyes find him, a small, apologetic smile playing on his lips as he nods to James.

“I think that’s my cue to leave,” he says, but Louis huffs at him.

“No, come on, tell me yourself, I’m pretty sure you were talking about me here just a moment ago,” Louis rolls his eyes, one hand on his hip while the other lifts his drink to his mouth.

“I’ll leave you two to it,” James says with an amused glint in his eyes, then steps away, immediately mingling into another conversation. Louis turns his full attention to Harry, cocking an eyebrow at his uncertain look that vanishes immediately, his stance straightening.

“I didn’t know what you meant when you said that thing about the management and asking your opinion if you want to continue the interview--“ he starts, but Louis cuts him off with a sharp nod. “I asked James if he knew what you meant, and he told me. Louis, you realize then I was asking you and not your management, right?” He asks with a worried expression.

“Pardon me?” Louis blinks and Harry lets out an amused huff.

“When I asked if we should talk about it more. I wanted to know if you want to elaborate, maybe phrase it differently so if you chose to let it air and come out, you’d have a somewhat less embarrassing way of doing so. I took your silence as a no, so I moved on, but it never occurred to me to ask your management. They have nothing to do with that.

“And about Dan… He’s an idiot for tweeting shit like that, I don’t agree with him at all. I know it might look like it from how often I like his stuff, but that’s mostly because I find them entertaining, not that I take them seriously.”

Harry stops, but from the way he’s biting his lips and his body language tells Louis that he’s not done yet, so he waits.

“If you still want to dislike me, I can’t do anything about that, but I don’t want you to think I’m an asshole. I think you’re very brave for coming out and I think there’s nothing wrong being asexual - many people live in happy relationships without sexual activities, it’s not like it’s very unlikely. I can’t expect you to accept my apology, but thanks for listening anyways,” he says at last, letting out a breath he’s been holding.

Louis doesn’t say anything for a few moments, thinking through what Harry just said and how Louis has been vivid over the same things for months. He doesn’t like to admit he’s wrong on a good day, but he had a horrible last six months and he doesn’t know what to think yet.

At Harry’s questioning look he nods, realizing this is the part where he says something, but ironically, he’s a bit speechless. He doesn’t know how to react other than acknowledge Harry’s words, and it seems like Harry got that as well, because he smiles at him tightly, turning away and looking for company.

For the rest of the night they don’t talk, but at least Louis doesn’t want to strangle him when Harry sends a smile his way.

––

 He follows Harry on Twitter a week later. Harry’s show’s official Twitter page posts a gif of a cheering Louis that night.

––

  _“Did you know we have a ship name?”_ Harry sends a direct message on Twitter a few days later.

 _“Don’t push it, Styles,”_ Louis replies.

––

 “Louis, what is Larry?” Sophia asks on another date night. This time Louis refuses to let anyone in the kitchen, and has hid the wine glasses under the sink, ordering Chinese and handing out beers. There’s only so much poshness he can handle in his own apartment.

“I don’t know, Sophia, what is Larry?” Louis asks, a noodle hanging out at the corner of his mouth that he sucks in.

“The photo Liam just posted of you looking like an idiot gets comments saying “Larry”. So you tell me,” she shrugs, scrolling on her phone. Louis sends a dirty look at the totally innocent looking Liam.

“No idea,” he says with his mouth full. Liam snickers from the armchair he claims to be his.

“It’s a ship name,” he says. “Like Lourrie for Perrie and you.”

“So who is the other in Larry?” Louis asks confused, opening Instagram to leave a rude comment on Liam’s photo. It’s actually sweet, the picture of him, curled up at the arm of the sofa, just cut off so the sofa doesn’t show in order to capture Sophia as well, sitting cross-legged on the coffee table. The caption says “my favourite people”.

“Harry and you,” Liam laughs, and Louis looks up sharply, glaring at his friend.

“I hope you mean Prince Harry or Harry fucking Potter,” he exclaims, looking back down to open the comments on the picture.

“Nope,” Liam says smugly. “Styles and you. Actually, they went all out there, the full ship name is Larry Stylinson. Pretty catchy if you ask me,” he laughs with Sophia.

“You’re shitting me,” Louis grunts, scrolling through the comments.

“ _I bet Harry is sitting on his other side,_ ” says a comment. He blocks whoever wrote it.

“Google it,” Sophia says as she barely contains her laugh. Louis opens his browser, dreading what he finds and yep, he doesn’t even want to see the titles of those fanfictions people wrote.

“Oh my God, how?” He shrieks, pushing his phone away, then pulling back, remembering he wanted to leave a rude comment.

“Well, when two people love each other very much--“ Sophia starts, but bursts out in laughter at Louis’ glare. “Or hate, you do you,” she exclaims. It earns a pillow in her face. She doesn’t seem to mind.

“ _Speaking of looking like an idiot,_ ” he writes as a caption on a photo he manages to take quickly of Sophia and Liam, laughing. Unfortunately Sophia looks stunning still, but Liam’s head is thrown back, mouth full and he looks fucking disgusting. That’s fine though, he likes Sophia more.

“Hey!” Liam exclaims as he gets the notification of being tagged on the photo, and Louis just snickers at them. He locks his phone and continue eating, snorting at Liam’s betrayed expression when Sophia likes the picture.

––

  _“Our ship name sucks.”_ Louis sends to Harry later that night, after Sophia and Liam left. He gets a response only the following day:

 _“The other option was Halo,”_ Harry writes. Louis agrees. Their ship name isn’t that bad after all.

––

 “I’ve got a program for us to go,” TJ says the next time Louis is in the office, playing on his phone while the management has a meeting about a photoshoot he’s not going to do. They’re debating in one end of the meeting room while Louis escaped to the other side.

“Hmm?” Louis asks without looking up. He’s 2 meters away from breaking his own record on Highway in _Hill Climb Racing_.

“Harry Styles holds a gathering, a rather big Christmas party. Everybody who matters go, and we’ve been invited.”

“No,” Louis says, but cuts in before TJ can start trying to convince him. “ _I am_ invited, you’re not. And if you did your research, you’d know why me and Styles are not the greatest idea. Did you even run this by Liam before deciding to bother me?” he asks, fist bumping when he breaks the record, his tongue poking out as he concentrates to not fuck it up.

“He said I will never learn unless I try to handle you by myself,” TJ says somewhat uncertain.

“Well, how’s that working out for you,” he mutters, cursing softly when his vehicle turns upside down.

“Um, there will be drinks and food?” TJ tries, and Louis looks up, raising his eyebrows. “And your friends, you started following Harry and the fans like when you two interact. This is good for you and us too.”

“Now you almost sound as much of an asshole as Liam does,” Louis deadpans.

“So I count as your friend now?” the kid smiles hopeful.

“I almost broke things off with Liam the last time he spoke to me like that,” Louis glares.

“Oh.”

––

  _“Christmas party, everything on me, you get presents and alcohol. I will even wear my gym clothes if you come, so if you want to throw your drink on me, I’m open target. You in?”_ Harry sends on Twitter two days later.

 _“You had me at the presents,”_ he writes back. He only goes to see Harry in gym clothes, of course. And presents.

––

 “You really hate him that much?” Liam asks as they take off their coats at the doorway of Styles’ Christmas party. Sophia besides him whistles at the size of the place and the décor.

“Are you sure Styles organized it? I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone who likes pink this much,” she notes as they take in the pink fairy lights and white plastic tree in the middle with pink ornaments.

“I told you,” Louis snorts, shaking his head. “I seem to be around people I dislike a lot nowadays, Liam, be a little more specific,” Louis asks as they make their way through the crowd to the bar.

“TJ. And Harry for that matter,” he says, signaling the bartender, who’s in black and pink vest.

“Yes and no. I wouldn’t have come if I repulsed him that much still. Zayn isn’t even here, let alone Perrie.”

“And you get presents,” a voice speaks up behind them and Louis turns to see Harry. He’s wearing grey sweater pants, on his waist tied a green hoodie, a black, probably food stained t-shirt. Louis can’t hold back his laugh at the sight, because even though the outfit isn’t awful, Harry can’t wear it with grace and only looks like an idiot instead of casual.

His hair is in a bun with a headband holding back the baby hairs from escaping, which is good, because he doesn’t want to hear Harry bitching about his hair when he goes through with his plan. After all, Harry dressed like this for him to do it.

“And I can do this,” Louis says as he gets his cocktail in his hand, raising and pouring it over Harry’s back and front. Several gasps and sounds of shock can be heard from people around them, but Harry takes it with only a gasp at the cold. Louis grins smugly, turning back to the bartender. “Sorry, my drink spilled, can I get another one?” he asks, and the man gulps before he nods.

“Louis, what the fuck?!” Liam exclaims, and Louis laughs, Harry joining him eventually, shaking his head.

“It’s okay, I told him he can do it,” Harry says, looking up with amusement in his eyes as he turns to Liam. “It’s good to see you again. And I believe this is the other favourite person of yours,” he turns to Sophia, extending his hand. “I’m Harry, it’s nice to meet you.”

“Sophia, I don’t know him,” she points at Louis with her thumb, and they all laugh at that.

“Are we equal then?” Harry turns back to Louis with raised eyebrows, and Louis sighs, rolling his eyes.

“I suppose. At least on the ‘bumping my drink on you’ side. That’s the least I can do as my revenge.”

“Good. Then if you excuse me, I need to change into the suit I picked for the occasion,” he smirks and Louis groans, raising his eyes to the sky.

“Just tell me it doesn’t have Christmas trees on it,” he grunts. Harry laughs, then excuses himself, disappearing in the direction of the dressing rooms, reassuring a few people that he’s fine.

“What the hell was that?!” Sophia demands, slapping Louis on the arm as they step aside to let another pink-black vested person mop the floor quickly.

“Look,” he opens Twitter, showing them both Harry’s message.

“You chat?” Liam asks wondering, reading through the short dialogs they had.

“Yes, I’m glad you like our deep, emotional conversations, but PR or not, that’s still private,” Louis rolls his eyes, making no attempt to take the phone back.

They pick up their drinks and Liam goes around, showing Sophia around. Louis is quick to find his partner, Niall, and they get into a conversation about Christmas. He finishes his cocktail, and accepts Niall’s offering of Irish coffee.

“It’s Christmas and I’m Irish,” he reasons when Louis questions his choice, but at his answer Louis just laughs. “Merry Christmas, mate! And Happy birthday!” Niall toasts before they knock their glasses together.

 The lights start to dim in the area, and for a moment, Louis thinks it’s his mind playing games, but then all the lights go out, except the ones aimed on the small stage a few meters away from them. Harry appears, wearing a simple pink suit with a back shirt underneath, with a guitar over his shoulders and the audience quiets down as he taps the mic.

“Hello, hello, friends!” he greets with a wide smile. “Happy holidays to everyone, I’m glad you all could make it. A few of you probably know that I like to write songs in my free-time, nothing like some of our talented guests, but hopefully some of you can appreciate my efforts.

“I wrote this song for someone who likes to destroy my clothes, and whom I unintentionally hurt over the past few months. Take my peace offering for saying sorry one more time, hopefully the last time I need to. Enjoy _Sweet Creature_!” he grins, looking at Louis as the music starts to play.

Louis doesn’t notice he’s grinning and swaying at the song until Sophia snakes an arm around his waist and grins at him.

Styles finishes the song and steps down from the stage to accept compliments. Louis sees him getting closer through the crowd, with an energy he didn’t feel from him before. He’s smiling at Louis as if questioning if he liked it. Louis raises his free hand to give him a thumbs up, and Harry beams at him before he turns to thank someone for being there.

The coffee is hot when Louis sips from it.

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my [tumblr](http://assisreal.tumblr.com/) if you wanna say hi, and here's a [rebloggable post](http://assisreal.tumblr.com/post/162462027002/it-doesnt-feel-like-a-win-by-saori-for-strong) if you want to share the fic! Also check out the [1D A-spec exchange](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/1daspecficexchange/works/) for more awesome fics!
> 
> Thank you for reading! Comments are always appreciated, I learn from your constructive criticism!


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